


waltzing in the meadow (someday it'll be with our stars)

by churningwishes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hope you like, KageHina - Freeform, Long, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, i still dk how to tag, im not okay, no beta we die like men, slowburn, sort of ?, sort of slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churningwishes/pseuds/churningwishes
Summary: The sunflowers are never as bright as one makes it seem, especially when you're all alone. Kageyama doesn't understand the true meaning of losing outside of volleyball till Hinata crashes into his life.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	waltzing in the meadow (someday it'll be with our stars)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: there will be TRIGGERING things such as suicide contemplation, panic attacks, extreme situations of stress and anxiety, isolation mention, derealization and disassociation, and hospitals described (specifically the icu). if anything of these things are triggering to you or could affect you negatively in any manner, PLEASE be cautious while reading. there will not be a line to distinguish when these things happen, because they happen quite a lot within the fic. HOWEVER, nothing will be described to the extreme. 
> 
> please keep in mind that this fic is also written in a separate reality, so kageyama will have dreams when he dreams of haikyuu's reality. 
> 
> SECOND WARNING: yes, there are most likely medical inaccuracies. i have never been in the icu myself but i've volunteered in the hospital and have had family members stay. i tried to do most of my research as best as possible and as accurately as i could, so i apologize if it strays from reality on the occasion. i have never had pneumonia nor have someone close to me been diagnosed and hospitalized with it so i apologize for the inaccuracies my description of pneumonia will provide. keep in mind that this is fiction and though i did read a lot into viral/bacterial pneumonia, sepsis and MODS in general, this could still be inaccurate.
> 
> PLEASE do not point out these inaccuracies in the comments. 
> 
> i recommend listening to the following songs while reading; i was listening to them as i wrote it.
> 
> in case you don’t live forever, ben platt [ especially this one ! ]  
> young and beautiful, lana del rey  
> lose you to love me, selena gomez  
> shallow, lady gaga & bradley cooper  
> superhero, lauv  
> idk you yet, alexander 23  
> i like it when you love me, oh wonder  
> before you go, lewis capaldi  
> summertime sadness, lana del rey  
> she, dodie  
> hold back the river, james bay  
> haunted (acoustic), taylor swift  
> enchanted, taylor swift  
> runaway, aurora  
> dancing with your ghost, sasha sloan  
> the moment i knew, taylor swift  
> praying, kesha  
> minefields, faouzia (i love her) and john legend  
> arcade (acoustic or not, your choice), duncan lawrence  
> tears of gold, faouzia   
> mercy, shawn mendes  
> if the world was ending, jp saxe & julia michaels  
> willow, taylor swift  
> champagne problems, taylor swift  
> the 1, taylor swift  
> exile (ft. bon iver), taylor swift (see a pattern?)   
> when we were young, adele  
> someone you loved, lewis capaldi  
> falling, harry styles  
> train wreck, james arthur
> 
> for better explanations of some questions you may have while reading this fic, please refer to the end notes. [insert warning spoiler wall here] 
> 
> as per usual: please don't reproduce, copy, translate, upload, take idea of (without explicit permission) in any shape way or form. thanks! <3 happy reading. 

──────────────────────

(-46)

──────────────────────

The way Kageyama saw it, there was no escaping from his past, or any past for that matter. A story could not be avoided, and consequences will always happen. He fully believed that today, the universe was punishing him, when he met an orange-haired bundle of joy despite his small size, seemingly eager jumping around, bouncing off the walls.

Tired as he was, Kageyama leaned back in his seat, tucking hands into his pockets, the other boy in the room bouncing on the balls of his feet, cheeks reddened by the cold outside, a tuft of hair sticking out noticeably from the top of his head. Removing his hands from his pockets, he rubbed his tired eyes, letting his gaze drop to the floor.

The metal seat he was sitting on bounced as the weight of the other boy sitting on it creaked loudly, Kageyama shooting a dark, angry look at the other, who seemed to wistfully ignore him. Prickly attitude taking over his behavior control, Kageyama let the smooth cover of a calm and collected attitude slip off and let the anger he had bottled up for a while slip out. 

“What’s up with you?” he shot at the jovial boy, who glanced at him for confusion a bit, turning around to look beside him at the potted plant, then realizing it was indeed him he was talking to. 

  
“Oh! I’m just excited, that’s all,” he hummed. “I’m Hinata Shouyou!”

“Excited? What for?” Kageyama responded drily, ignoring his introduction (or perhaps he was too distracted by his own thoughts, or simply too daft).

Hinata grinned brightly, something that seemed harming to a stranger’s eye especially in the gloomy, quiet atmosphere of the hospital’s waiting room. He didn’t respond quickly, he let his smile fill up the silence. “I received happy news,” he let out slowly, after thinking about it for a while. 

“Hm,” Kageyama didn’t understand why happy news meant that he could just bounce around cheerfully. “You came from outside?” noting the lingering redness on the other’s cheeks. 

Hinata’s eyes glistened over slightly in confusion, but Kageyama wasn’t really focused on the conversation, nor the other’s countenances. “Sorta,” he let his words hang in the air. “It’s a bit chilly,” he let out a soft breath, scrunching up his nose just the little bit.

“Mm,” Kageyama was back to short, indifferent responses now. He leaned back on the seat, feeling a quiver in the back, what, with Hinata squirming all the while. 

“Do you never sit still?” Kageyama snapped.

Hinata seemed dully confused, before he finally responded, the same delight lighting up his eyes. “I can, actually, but in quiet places like this my heartbeat sounds too loud, too fast for my liking.”

Kageyama didn’t respond, simply sitting in silence. He didn’t think much of others, usually, being a particularly selfish person demanding too much from other people, but he didn’t feel like retorting to Hinata that there were simply other seats in the waiting room, and that he could be slightly more altruistic. “You said your name was Hinata, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Hinata nodded rather eagerly, much to Kageyama’s distaste. The conversation felt draining. “What’s yours?”

  
What? What was his? Kageyama paused for a moment, not understanding the question too much.

“Your name,” Hinata clarified, a smirk quivering on the corners of his lips.

“I knew that, idiot,” Kageyama lashed out before he could stop himself. “It’s Kageyama Tobio,” he responded a bit louder to cover up the insult from before.

Much to his content (or satisfied relief, maybe) Hinata only laughed at the insult, cheeks reddening just the slightest. He breathed out loudly, the little tuft of his hair flying out, as if mirroring his motions. “Gosh, it’s become hot in here,” he complained loudly, pulling off his scarf.

Was that . . . mucus? Mildly concerned and heavily disgusted, Kageyama was debating whether to offer the other a tissue or not but Hinata seemed already on top of that, blowing his nose lightly with a tissue he pulled out from god-knows-where. He was folding the scarf in his lap when the door was pushed open, Kageyama’s eyes flying towards it. 

“Kageyama?” the nurse called. 

Kageyama stood up, leaving Hinata behind without even sparing him a glance.

He felt a pair of hazel-colored eyes training on him as he left. 

──────────────────────

(-45)

──────────────────────

The next day he had come back, and was absentmindedly rolling a bouncy ball colored to look like a volleyball around his fingers. The door opened and Kageyama looked eagerly towards it, but it was only Hinata. He waved towards Kageyama, seemingly jumping over seats and pushing past sitting people to plop down beside him, having quite the peaceful look on his face.

“Hey, Kageyama!” he greeted, giving him a profusely bright smile.

“Hm, Hinata,” Kageyama spared as a response, his low voice gloomy and somber.

“Why the sad face?” Hinata questioned curiously, a genuine look of concern on his face. 

“Why are you here?” Kageyama responded with the same energy, just in a low sneer instead. “Do you live here, or something?”

Come to think of it, asking someone if they lived in the hospital must’ve been harmful, especially to the older boy. 

Hinata seemed to pause, reflecting seriously on his choice of words. He let the sentence slip out carefully, with monotone and careful deliberation. “I used to.”

“Used to?” Kageyama pushed further.

“Yeah, I was sick for a while, but I’m getting better,” he grinned. “‘S a hospital after all, right?”

“Mm,” he replied, not really paying attention anymore. “What were you sick with?”

Hinata’s eyes seemed to dim a bit. “Pneumonia,” he let out slowly. “I don’t remember much, really,” he admitted, letting a nervous laugh escape. For once, he seemed dulled in spirit.

Exactly what Kageyama would expect, especially since they were in the somber waiting room of the ICU. 

“What are you here for?” Hinata finally prodded curiously.

“My sister,” he responded simply, and upon seeing Hinata’s waiting, innocent face, Kageyama let out a sigh and continued. “She got into a freak accident, and was admitted into the ICU when she went comatose. They’re expecting a full recovery soon enough.”

“Aw, that’s rough,” Hinata seemed rather detached after Kageyama’s statement. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Tch, like there’s anything you can do.” 

“I’m willing to try,” Hinata murmured under his breath, but Kageyama did indeed hear it, turning in his seat to glance at him, wide-eyed. Who was he to offer his help without even knowing the details and consequences of his decision to a stranger he met once? 

Kageyama felt angry. He was furious at himself for wanting to do less than an orange-haired boy for his own sister. He was angry at Hinata for being so eager to help, wasn’t he even worried for what might happen? He was angry at Miwa for getting herself into this situation, her selfishness that drove her to leap into traffic angrily - a flash of sadness washed over Kageyama, silencing the monster of guilt that was beginning to come out. 

“Thank you.”

──────────────────────

(-42) 

──────────────────────

In retrospect, Kageyama didn’t understand why he was so stupid. Obviously, as a pneumonia patient, Hinata would probably be resting at home during his recovery. He wouldn't need to be at the hospital, especially to the point where he seemed to be standing in the ICU waiting room, patiently waiting in his jacket and scarf that clashed horribly with his bright hair, for Kageyama no less.

“Hey!” He greeted cheerfully, Kageyama was hesitating to talk to him, eyeing the nonchalant person standing beside him. He had a hunched posture, fingers fidgeting over what Kageyama assumed was a gaming console. Dyed and dry strands of blond hair fell upon his shoulders, bored eyes not bothering once to flick up from the screen to Kageyama. 

Kageyama hesitated again, before giving Hinata a nod in response. 

“This is Kenma,” Hinata grinned, introducing the two, hazel eyes flickering to observe the interaction.

Kenma didn’t look up. Kageyama didn’t say anything.

An empty pause.

“And Kenma,” Hinata’s voice seemed slightly more nervous. “-this is Kageyama.”

Kageyama wanted to force something out. He wanted to say something. 

“You arrived later than usual today,” the nurse interrupted the three, smiling with no emotion at Kageyama. “You can go in if you’d like.” She eyed the playing Kenma and the fidgeting Hinata.

Kageyama only gave her a nod in thanks, hurrying past them to push past the door, leading into the ICU’s cold hallways. 

──────────────────────

(-21) 

──────────────────────

  
It became hours and days and weeks till Kageyama saw Hinata again. By that time, Miwa was awake and rejoicing, though slowly detaching and weaning herself off of the machines’ that ran smoothly, quietly in the background. 

Kageyama didn’t come every day now. He was sure Miwa could use the extra company, but what was the point? She had friends and other family friends who visited her. She didn’t need her younger brother pestering her.

Yawning, Kageyama dragged his feet up the steps, a textbook under his arm. If he was gonna spend his afternoon listening to his sister chat with a friend or complain loudly about life in a white, cold room, he could at least spend it productively.

“Oi - Kageyama!” the excited, familiar voice Kageyama couldn’t decide whether to associate between annoying or annoying, or, to put it even more simply, annoying, called out to him. “Haven’t seen you in a while! Anything excited that’s happened?”

Even with his tired, frustrated composure, Kageyama wasn’t that dense (or maybe it was just the fact that Hinata seemed less jumpy than usual) and could tell he seemed tired, dark circles under slightly swollen eyes, a dark shadow casting on pale skin.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting thoughtfully at the other. He didn’t bring it up. They were in a hospital after all, Hinata probably just stayed up too late or whatever, he couldn’t care less.

“No,” he responded simply.

Hinata fell into step with Kageyama, seemingly having to skip a step to keep up with Kageyama’s deliberately hurried pace.

Maybe it was selfish of him to not want to know how Hinata was doing. Maybe it really was selfish to want to try to turn his back on Hinata.

And that’s exactly what he did, pushing past the door and letting it fall loose behind him, but Hinata barreled through. If he was hurt by Kageyama's usually successful method of losing someone behind him, he didn’t show it. In fact, Hinata only grinned. 

“Are you in that much of a hurry? Is Kageyama-san better? I rarely see you now,” Hinata pulled a saddened frown.

“She is doing better, yes,” Kageyama responded, not wanting to indulge in too much conversation. 

“Can I meet her?” Hinata’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe we could become friends!”

“Maybe,” Kageyama responded quietly before thinking about his answer. It was originally ‘no’ but . . . if Miwa wanted to, then he supposed he should let her. 

He knocked on the door this time rather than shoving it open like he usually would, Hinata watching him intently, as if he was afraid Kageyama would lock him out, or attempt to run away.

Kageyama bet Hinata could tackle him and injure him pretty badly. 

How did someone his size have his energy, he didn’t know. Kageyama wasn’t that tall himself but he was exhausted usually by midday. 

Maybe it was the people he surrounded himself with, depressing, leeching, terrible people. God, they made him feel so powerless. Like a beheaded king.

Once with so much power and the next day, all was gone. His hard work - to ruins.

Wincing internally, he gritted his teeth and pushed open the door at the call of a confused Miwa, her face seemingly dulling when she saw that it was her brother, but perking up when she saw Hinata.

“Hi! I’m Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama’s friend!” Hinata introduced himself, a touch of excitement in his voice.

Miwa turned to stare at Kageyama with a raised eyebrow. “Tobio, you didn’t say you had friends,” a chilling smirk came to rest at her lips.

Kageyama scowled in response. “I don’t. He attached himself to me.”

Miwa smiled at Hinata, who seemed nervous. “I’m Kageyama Miwa,” she introduced herself formally. “I’d shake your hand but you know, kinda stuck to a bed.” She laughed, a merry sound that sent even the smallest spark of happiness in Kageyama’s heart.

He sat down, cracking open his textbook.

Hinata and Miwa got along well, Kageyama could only notice in their fast-paced conversation. One second it was about volleyball, and the next it wasn’t. Something about onigiri, or meat buns. 

Sighing quietly, Kageyama refocused his eyes on the text but couldn’t possibly read. He was alarmed at Miwa calling Hinata his friend, both of them knowing Kageyama didn’t and honestly couldn't have friends. With his preposterous and stuck-up reputation, it just seemed all the time like everyone either hated him, or he hated everyone. 

But if Miwa was so confident in calling Hinata Kageyama’s friends, he had to trust his older sister, right?

“Tobio,” the name snapped him back from his thoughts. 

He waited for Miwa to speak. 

“Put your textbook down and join us in the conversation,” she encouraged brightly. A dash of confusion and hesitation ran through Kageyama’s bloodstream before he inevitably glared at Miwa with a thunder-like expression, sharp and angry at her dragging him in. 

Miwa didn’t flinch. She was used to dissatisfaction (especially working as hair stylist) and most definitely used to her brother’s wrath. 

He did eventually do so, setting down his book with a sigh and inching forward to lean over on the bed, though still sitting, and listening to Hinata pick up where he was speaking from before. 

The other boy was animated in his speech as he jumped tirelessly from subject to subject, making hand motions that made Miwa laugh, and the apparently hilarious remarks Miwa constantly laughed at. Kageyama felt somewhat pleased. It was better to see that Miwa was getting better.

His eyes flickered over to the passing clouds in the sky, a curious glance at the outside world. 

He observed his own reflection in the window. Dark circles under his eyes. Heavy, tired wrinkles on his forehead. He relaxed his jawline, his eyebrows. 

It really is a beautiful day outside. 

──────────────────────

(-17.9)

──────────────────────

Kageyama sat down beside Hinata this time. He held a milk carton in one hand, carefully balancing his bag in the other. “You seem tired.”

Hinata looked up, breaking out of a trance. “Oh - yeah. Been feeling slightly worse so they checked me back into the hospital. For a while, at least. Checking symptoms and possible diagnoses. It’s probably just a recurrence of pneumonia. I’m not too worried.”

His tone didn’t sound like it, Kageyama noticed quietly. “Okay,” he responded. “Maybe you should be getting some rest now, then.”

“I wanted to meet you outside, Kageyama! Plus, I have friends on the way. I haven’t seen them in a while, not since I got pneumonia.”

“We’re not outside, we’re in the waiting room,” Kageyama pointed out, taking a sip of his drink.

“Fine, then, Bakageyama,” Hinata groaned. “We can go outside into the garden then, I’m bored, my friends are late, and I’m supposed to wait for a couple more hours.”

“A couple of hours . . . ? You’re making that up,” Kageyama didn’t make a move to get out of his seat.

“We’ll be back before then!” Hinata’s face colored darkly. “Let’s go before it gets too late,” he nudged at Kageyama.

Kageyama sighed, standing up, throwing out the empty milk carton, shoving his bag over his shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this, boke, but after you.”

──────────────────────

(-17.6) 

──────────────────────

The flowers were dead. Unfortunately.

It wasn’t a beautiful hospital scene like you’d see all the time in terribly heart-wrenching movies. It wasn’t a setting sun beyond a white balcony laid out with a wooden bench and flowers swaying in the wind. No, it was a cramped garden with elderly and young children, hustling and bustling about, the occasional cough.

The grass was trampled, the sun didn’t frame Hinata’s face like it may have in a movie (but it did shine so brightly Hinata covered his eyes occasionally, squinting) and the garden was loud with noise.

Hinata and Kageyama walked together. Kageyama heard Hinata’s breathing become more and more labored as they walked. 

He resisted to comment about it. Hinata never bugged him about Miwa, he would do the same.

It was a hospital after all, you go to the hospital when you are sick. But it was just pneumonia, he was sure Hinata was fine. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata bugged him relentlessly, Kageyama finally flickering out of his daze. 

“Mm,” he responded.

An excited skip in Hinata’s jump. “You know the Kiyose Sunflower Festival?”

It was an August festival where over hundreds of thousands of sunflowers grew in a certain area, in Tokyo. 

“Yes.”

“Someone told me that when those sunflowers die, the people who visit the festival see their past brightness everywhere. It’s like - a gift that never stops giving,” Hinata voiced.

Kageyama could only stop and stare at Hinata with a deadpan stare. “You really believe that, boke? That’s bullshit.”

“Hey!” Hinata called defensively. “That’s not fair, I only brought this up because of the biology textbook you were reading the other day. Not like you’re smart enough to know anything!” 

Aghast and emotionally crippled with Hinata’s choice of words, Kageyama continued to walk, long strides that had Hinata jogging to keep up. “That’s not true.”

“You told me you failed your finals!”

“I said I failed my math final!”

“Those are the same thing!”

“Aren’t you in school too? You can’t be doing that well either!”

A pause in the conversation. The hesitation was nearly tangible.

“Yes,” Hinata kept his gaze away from Kageyama. “You’re right, I’m not doing well.”

Kageyama might’ve been too caught up in the moment that day, but he soon realized that was probably not related to the school subject. 

In hindsight, he really should’ve left right there and then. If he walked away immediately, he could’ve saved his own life.

──────────────────────

(-16) 

──────────────────────

“Nii-san!” Natsu called eagerly as the bubbly bundle of energy seemed to launch herself into Hinata’s arms. 

Hinata wrapped his arms around her, stumbling backwards with her weight, laughing all the same. 

To Kageyama, the temperature in the room seemed to raise slightly. The lights a bit brighter, the room a bit warmer. 

He would really hate it when Miwa got better to the point she would no longer have to stay in the hospital, Kageyama realized. He would have to stop coming. 

──────────────────────

(-15) 

──────────────────────

Hinata took a seat beside him quietly.

Startled, Kageyama glanced at Hinata, waiting for him to start the conversation, like he usually would. 

Instead, Hinata stayed quiet, leaning against the side of the seat. “Oi, Kageyama,” he butted in suddenly.

Kageyama closed his textbook to show he was listening.

“What are your plans for the future?” Hinata asked curiously.

“Pursue volleyball,” Kageyama responded without waiting, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of his beloved sport. “I really want to play for a Division 1 team.”

“Ohh,” Hinata leaned forward. “I used to play volleyball, but then I quit.”

Kageyama would’ve asked why just to piss him off in any other situation but some part of him begged him not to. 

“What position do you play?”

“ . . . Setter.”

“You could’ve set for me one time then! If we were ever on the same team,” Hinata grinned.

“If,” Kageyama repeated softly, nodding along to his words thoughtfully.

“Say, Kageyama, why are you so quiet today?”

──────────────────────

(-9) 

──────────────────────

He sat silently in the chair, his textbook sprawled open in his lap. Hinata was lying on the bed, eyes watching the ceiling tiredly. 

The sullen beeping in the room (he couldn’t tell if it was in his imagination or not) jolted Kageyama back to reality. He was sitting here as Hinata requested, the boy only able to see the world from the inside. He was tethered by the machine with tubes connecting to his nostrils, and just as it seemed to pump air into him, it also seemed to suck the energy out.

With just the few days he had spent here, he saw a difference in the way Hinata was. 

And as a good friend, Kageyama decided to stay, like Hinata wanted him to. 

Miwa was out of the hospital and better. She had long since told him to stop using her as an excuse, to man up and go visit Hinata already. And when Kageyama sat in the waiting room for nearly ten hours, awaiting a familiar redhead to bounce in and to say hello, the receptionist finally told him which room Hinata was located in.

And with a hurried entrance, Hinata had greeted him with a grumpy ‘finally’.

Kageyama let his gaze trail on the absentminded Hinata for a moment, pausing to take in the tired circles around his eyes.

“Why haven’t you left yet? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“It’s nearly the first week of April,” Kageyama informed Hinata. “School’s let out. Has been for a month. It picks back up really soon. You should be better in time for it.” 

Hinata paused.

Kageyama felt his breath catch in his throat. He saw Miwa lying how Hinata was lying, tethered and hooked up to machines, pale and tired, yet so restless it’s hard to sleep. Miwa seemed to fade away, fast like a flock of birds, as Hinata shifted, curling away from Kageyama. 

Until it was just Hinata. Just Hinata he felt sadness creeping up in him for. Pity encroached on his soul, breaking him slowly, piece by piece. 

“Hinata,” Kageyama called. “What month did you think it was?”

“I didn’t,” the voice came forlorn. “I just thought you had school tomorrow. That’s why you kept a textbook with you. You always keep a textbook with you when you have school.”

Did he really know him for that long?

With a pang in his heart, he realized it was a yes. He had met Hinata in early February when Miwa first got into the freak accident, and a week later, he had stopped coming to the hospital, till Miwa awoke. And even then, it was maybe a month. Maybe three weeks. Two and a half? He didn’t know. That’s when he finally saw Hinata again. 

Truth be told, it really did feel like nothing had happened. 

April already. He couldn’t believe it was April already. 

──────────────────────

(-7) 

──────────────────────

“Practice with me!” Hinata called out to Kageyama, grinning in his number ten t-shirt.

Kageyama blinked in confusion, glancing around him. A tall blond with glasses stared at him judgingly, a timid looking boy sitting by his side. With a hmph, the other looked away, taking longer strides that were probably taller than Hinata’s whole height.

Kageyama didn’t know who that was. He only knew Kindaichi and Kunimi, who he loathed with such a passion one could only describe as frustration. He pitied himself for being so hung up on the past, but it was so goddamn hard - especially when you were constantly reminded of your failures, every single day.

When school was going on, he felt relief in coming to the hospital.

For Miwa, for Hinata, he couldn’t care less. He needed it just as much as they needed him. Possibly even more.

Practice with me. Not set for me. He had a partner the same way Kindaichi had Kunimi, Oikawa had Iwaizumi, that blond guy had the green-haired boy - he had a partner in Hinata.

His fingertips hit the ball at a perfect angle, feeling satisfaction jolting through his body, a twitch at the corners of his lips. 

The ball seemed to push off perfectly, the ball a servant and Kageyama its master. So used to seeing the ball fall in freefall in this vision, Kageyama closed his eyes, for the first time consciously, so he wouldn’t have to feel his failures crashing along with the ball. 

He felt a quick breeze fly past him and he forced his eyes open, aghast, as Hinata seemed to fly in the air, his arms flying behind him as he pushed off the floor with all the force and energy in the world and his arms seemed to fly as he spiked the ball, the impact leaving it bouncing off the floor.

Kageyama watched the ball bounce and roll, a soft kind of surprise in his eyes. His heartbeat quickened as he swiveled to stare at Hinata, his eyes gleaming. He looked down at his fingers.

“What are you standing there for? Let’s go again!” Hinata called, already adopting his previous position, readying himself to hit the ball towards Kageyama.

Kageyama stared at him with wide eyes. He nodded once, stepping backwards. 

If we were ever on the same team.

But they were, and that’s what mattered right?

With a gasp, Kageyama sat up, sputtering quietly, coughing on his own spit. His gaze followed Hinata’s curled up position on the bed, focusing his eyes to where he saw Hinata’s chest fall and rise with a steady rhythm, the breathing machine still attached to him. 

Kageyama let out a quiet sigh. A dream. 

A fucking dream.

He was so incredibly angry. 

His eyes followed the open curtains, the window pushed open by Hinata to let the wind in from earlier. He saw the overarching buildings of the rest of busy Tokyo, he saw the beautiful skyline that was home to him. 

He wished there were stars, but he supposed he would have to settle with the busy highways. 

Was that . . . was that a star? Kageyama leaned forward curiously, eventually disappointed to figure out it was an airplane.

“Are there stars?” a sleepy voice interrupted his thought process. Kageyama might’ve normally turned and snapped back at him to continue sleeping, but he didn’t have the energy (or the heart, really) and settled for a simple ‘no’.

“Natsu taught me a trick,” Hinata shifted slightly so he was facing the window too, hazel eyes reaching past Kageyama. “If you look hard enough, you can see the stars. They come when you call. Just like the memories of our loved ones. They all reside in one.”

Kageyama followed his gaze, though still seeing a soul-sucking abyss that was the black sky.

“Not there,” Hinata pushed himself up, tilting Kageyama’s chin slightly to the right. Kageyama’s throat had gone dry. He didn’t dare let himself move. 

“There.”

And truth be told - was it the smudges on the window? Wait no, that can’t be right, the window was open. 

“Oh,” Kageyama’s silence broke with an instinctive whisper, curling on the tip of his tongue as Hinata’s gentle fingertip remained on his jawline. Was this the hand that had spiked the ball in Kageyama’s dream? It felt like Hinata’s spike had been so sleekly rough, so intense, he couldn’t understand how his fingers were so soft.

Oh yeah, because he wasn’t in the dream anymore. Idiot.

Instead, he focused his thoughts on the dreamy night sky, indeed what felt like tens of thousands of stars twinkling back at him.

“See? Stars,” Hinata’s voice was quiet, soft, so close yet so far. “Beautiful.”

Hinata leaned on Kageyama, the thrum of the breathing machine mixed with his quick heartbeat spinning around in Kageyama’s eardrums. He didn’t move though. This was perfect.

He gently wrapped an arm around Hinata’s waist to support him, feeling the tiredness of the other seeping into him. 

“Natsu’s smart,” Kageyama commented quietly. 

“A version of the stars, right? Our stars,” Hinata called triumphantly.

Kageyama hummed in agreement, feeling Hinata’s grip on his shoulder tighten and loosen with every breath he took.

──────────────────────

(-6.9) 

──────────────────────

He woke up the next day with an ache in his back. Kageyama would never lie and say that sleeping in hospital chairs were comfortable, but it was a routine he had developed in February for Miwa, and had been using it interchangeably between Miwa and Hinata from then. 

He had slept in waiting rooms, hospital rooms, doctors’ offices, even the nurse’s office at school when he felt so scared to go to class. Anxiety had caught up to him to sit beside whispering and giggling people. It terrified him to no end, and curling up in the soft closet lined with linens and shelves made him feel at comfort, for some reason. 

He shifted from his position where he was lying horizontally, his head turned towards the door, his face facing the wall. The chair had been moved so it was pressed against the bed, presumably for his comfort. His head rested on the bed, his feet propped up against the shelf under the window.

Hinata was curled away from the door, his face adjacent to Kageyama’s. His hand was curled underneath the pillow he rested his head on, the tubes connected to his nose loud in the weighing silence in the air. 

The heart sensor was thrumming rhythmically along with the breathing machine, the pulse oximeter connected to Hinata’s finger beating along quietly, the arterial line attached to his wrist pulsing and twitching - almost as if it was a ballerina dancing in a quiet theater, if not for the heavy piano playing in the corner.

Here he was, comparing support machines to a dancing analogy. Kageyama winced at himself, straightening himself and the chair, so he was facing Hinata again. He clipped the curtain behind the chair, letting the breeze wake him up, as well as ruffle his hair. 

Kageyama stared outside, noting the streaks of red against the sky. The roads seemed less busy than yesterday.

God. he hated being in a hospital. It was stifling. 

His gaze tracked Hinata as he slept, almost restlessly, shifting multiple times in his position. Hinata’s hair fell adorably on the pillow, his mouth open slightly, a line of drool dotting his chin. Sure, he wasn’t the prettiest sleeper, but the way the sun had risen to shine orange streaks across his face sure was beautiful. It contrasted his hair so perfectly, giving a new highlight to his beauty.

And yet, Kageyama could still only focus on the heavy circles that cast shadows on Hinata’s face. 

He was so young too. He had a whole future to do. A volleyball career.

Kageyama was going to set for Hinata one day, he promised himself. He was going to feel the bounce of the ball on his fingers, the grin that Hinata would adopt and the cheer their teammates would give them when they scored that winning point. They would go to Nationals. They would win Nationals. He would leave senior high with Hinata at his side, leaving bad memories and terrifying thoughts behind as he would dive headfirst into the future he and Hinata would create together.

Whether it was volleyball and their passion for it, whether it was going to the Kiyose Sunflower Festival in August every year, or it was just to come back to the ICU waiting room, repeating the words they would say when they won the Olympics. He would do it someday.

Hinata was his partner. Hinata was his. And he would forever be Hinata’s first setter, his first official one. They would work together as a team within their volleyball team, they would work together scoring points and defeating other teams in competitions. 

They would be together.

Kageyama couldn’t tell what kind of love he felt for Hinata. It was some kind of longing but he was too terrified to separate it from the want to play volleyball with Hinata like he recalled in his dream. It was an aching nostalgia.

At least he could rest in peace knowing somewhere out there, other-reality Kageyama was setting to Hinata and Hinata spiking it with a smooth quick attack. At least he could rest in peace knowing that somewhere out there other-reality Kageyama was happy. 

But he was happy, truly. Knowing that Hinata was sleeping peacefully and that the days weren’t passing so quickly as he thought meant everything to him. They still had that chance. 

He hoped Hinata could hang on till the first term of school passed. He would be able to take him to the Kiyose Sunflower Festival. 

Kageyama never liked sunflowers, but he observed his neighbor sometimes when she came out to water them. He kept tabs open on his computer when he seldomly returned home that were researched to the brunt of the internet to find more information on sunflowers, intent on proving Hinata wrong.

Somehow, it no longer was Kageyama proving Hinata wrong, it was more Kageyama finding out how to take care of a sunflower. 

He realized in his mind Hinata felt like a sunflower to him. He was so bright for those few weeks Kageyama longed to go back so he could properly enjoy spending time with the tangerine, and yet now . . . he lacked the energy he once had, though Kageyama saw the push he kept going in his heart to continue working towards having that energy again.

He’s strong, Kageyama reassured himself. Hinata will survive. 

  
──────────────────────

(-6.7)

──────────────────────

Kageyama had never seen Hinata wake up, honestly. 

He had stayed in the hospital, sitting on the waiting chairs outside while Hinata slept, coming in only when he heard that Hinata was mumbling about, moving around, but this was the first time he had ever fallen asleep in the hospital room. Not that it was much more comfortable, really. 

Hinata shifted slightly, his face framed by the soft orange curls that cascaded on his forehead, bouncy hair flopping all over the pillow, the same line of drool dry by now, on his chin. A sleepy look remained in his eyes as he peeled them open, gently drawing his gaze to the open window, then to tired looking Kageyama sitting sullenly in the corner right by the window.

“You stayed!” Hinata’s voice was cheerful, instantly filling up the silence that was slowly swallowing Kageyama whole. 

“Amazing observation,” Kageyama noted drily.

Hinata didn’t respond to the jab, something Kageyama instantly took pride for. He saw a flicker of adamancy in his eyes, but Hinata had already leaned back, probably tired from the sudden sit-up he had performed. 

He wiped away the drool on his chin absentmindedly, his gaze staying on the ceiling. 

  
“Oi, Kageyama, why did you stay?”

Kageyama paused, before letting his gaze flick over to Hinata. “I’ve got nowhere else to go,” he admitted quietly.

Hinata didn’t respond to him. 

The silence filled the room again, stifling and Kageyama was choking, he was struggling to breathe, the screams of his failures reaching his head again, his vision growing dark as he let his head fall limp, staring at the floor. Hinata observed him from afar, too tired to make a move towards him and too far to do something.

Kageyama sucked in sharply, drawing Hinata’s attention back. 

Kageyama stood up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours or so.” 

Hinata’s wide, hazel eyes watched him leave. When the black-haired boy’s footsteps stopped ringing in his head, Hinata let his hand fall off the bed in search of Kageyama’s bag he had left behind. There was nothing important in it, just a change of clothes and several textbooks.

Hinata was sure the textbooks were just an excuse for Kageyama. He was too quiet to strike up a conversation and too prideful to just stare. 

He probably felt isolated and lonely too, with the voices in his head always screaming. Hinata could never understand, having never been through what Kageyama had but he felt empathy with him, the way he never had with anyone else.

You could’ve set for me one time then! If we were ever on the same team.

He was foolish. Hinata was foolish.

With a grit of his teeth and a stretch of the arterial line his fingers curled around the spine of the book he so often recognized.

Kageyama’s biology textbook. His name was scrawled messily on the first page, Hinata observed. The textbook was messier than he last remembered it. Probably with the coming of school.

Hinata began to read the notes written in the small spaces between the formal text, the small post-its and tags. 

Sometimes it strayed from class. Sometimes it went from a mathematical formula to a word definition. Other times it went to describing eye shades. Other times it was a light sketch (albeit terrible, but Hinata loved them nonetheless) of a perfect set, a perfect spike.

He noticed in later doodles the spiker seemed similar to himself. Hinata felt a warm feeling spread in his heart.

──────────────────────

(-6.5) 

──────────────────────

“I didn’t know you studied, chibi-chan!” The shrieking laughter shook Kageyama’s eardrums as he hesitated in front of the slightly open door. 

“Kuroo, stop making fun of him.” A low, contrasting, jarring voice.

Kageyama nudged the door open, nearly hitting a boy. 

The boy spun around, sharp eyes observing Kageyama as he stepped to the side, tugging at a dyed-hair (what seemed like) owl man to move. “Bokuto-san,” he called quietly.

The named Bokuto, the shortest one he recognized as Kenma and the tall, hyena-haired gremlin he understood was probably Kuroo all turned to face Kageyama, mouths all opening to speak but Hinata butting first.

“You came back!” A thud.

“Did you just drop my biology textbook? Heck, were you reading my biology textbook? Boke!” Kageyama’s words were sharp as he restrained himself from diving to grab it. 

Again, the slightest inclination that the others were going to speak before Hinata cut them off again, this time defensively, but with a sudden burst of energy. 

“Oi! It was in your bag! I got bored! There’s not a lot you can do, you know, stuck on a hospital bed!”

Kageyama picked up the book from the floor, setting it in his bag. He hovered near his seat, waiting for the group to speak.

“You must be Kageyama,” the first boy Kageyama had seen speaking. His voice was soft and enveloping. “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“Kageyama Tobio.” 

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou,” the cheerful, owl-looking guy spoke right after Kageyama responded to Akaashi’s introduction. Cue the exasperated sigh from Akaashi as Bokuto gave him an energetic bow.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” the hyena-haired other spoke, the mocking tone he had used for insulting Hinata leaving his voice. 

He exchanged a bow with him too, and all eyes landed expectedly on Kenma, who had retreated to sitting on Hinata’s bed, his fingers already playing with his console.

Kageyama expected this from their last meeting. He set down the bag that had been in his hands, pushing the window open again. He assumed the nurse had closed it.

He let Hinata continue the animated discussion with Bokuto and Kuroo, hearing the occasional input from Kenma and Akaashi. He heard a creak as Hinata shifted in his position, Kageyama now knowing him well enough to know that he probably just sat up more. 

It was a rather small pot that he held in his heads, balanced precariously on the windowsill. He ignored the dirt under his fingertips as he buried the seeds in, wiping the dirt off with a napkin he had brought along, placing the pot where the window was, perfect for the recommended six hours or so of sunlight every day. 

Now, they just had to wait for it to grow. 

The pot had finally caught Hinata’s constantly changing attention, who peered at it curiously. “Are those sunflowers?” he questioned quickly.

“Yup,” Kageyama responded without an explanation, but following the four pairs of eyes on him (Kenma was busy, of course,) he scowled, before continuing. “It’s actually not summer yet, so it’s not expected that they grow but they should take six to ten days, debating on how well you can take care of it. I figured might as well, Miwa liked growing plants before she moved out, so she had several seeds left over she said were still plenty fine to use.” 

“Kageyama-san sounds so cool,” Hinata’s eyes seemed to be purely stars. 

“You've met her before,” Kageyama responded bluntly. “And talked to her probably more than you can count.”

Instantly, the enchanted mood Hinata sported faded away. “Oi! You were the one who got a math formula wrong in your textbook!”

“At least I fixed it,” Kageyama retorted.

“Not to my knowledge! It’s negative b, not positive!”

“You’re an idiot for going through my belongings!”

“It was just the textbook! You’re always reading it so I wanted to know what could keep you hooked for so long! Turns out there’s like barely any pages on flower germination!”

“Yeah, of course not, boke, it’s biology not botany!”

“If I may interfere,” Kuroo smoothly entered the conversation. “You did get the formulae for certain substances incorrect. I wouldn’t know why, it’s simply one of the easiest units in Chem.” 

A scowl washed over Kageyama’s facial features again. “Who’re you to speak?”

“Immaculate science student, if I may say so myself,” Kuroo proudly grinned, puffing his chest.

There was a drawling sigh from Kenma. “This could go on forever,” he spoke softly, and perhaps if Kageyama heard him, he might’ve been surprised, but he was too busy arguing with Kuroo, Bokuto butting in at the occasion. 

──────────────────────

(-6.4) 

──────────────────────

“Why a sunflower?” Hinata queried curiously, picking at the cold fish that lay in front of him, unappetized.

“You told me about the Kiyose Sunflower Festival,” Kageyama blinked at him.

“And how is that supposed to respond to my question?” Hinata prodded back, giving Kageyama a slight jab with the end of his chopsticks. Kageyama recoiled briefly, pausing to answer the question.

“I just figured we could join in the festivities. Plus, Miwa had extra seeds lying around, so I figured we might as well put them to good use. It might be a bit too cold, though. Hopefully the sunlight is enough.”

“Whoa,” Hinata’s eyes widened dramatically. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say so much with such a compassionate voice.”

“I - boke!” Kageyama’s face reddened. “That’s - that’s not - idiot,” he settled for saying. 

Hinata laughed, softly, quietly, a horrible sound that pained Kageyama to listen to. It wasn’t the same laugh he heard the rambunctious boy laugh before. This one felt painful to him, probably all the more to Hinata. Hinata, most likely, was now struggling to breathe. 

He watched sullenly as Hinata leaned back, eyes fluttering closed briefly to regain his composure (though to Kageyama’s train of thought, it really wasn’t that collected in the first place.)

There was something mesmerizing about the messiness that Hinata bore so proudly. His hair was constantly all over the place, and his face was probably smudged more often than not. His smile was bright if not slightly crooked, his laughs were spontaneous but oh boy did they strike warmth into Kageyama’s otherwise sealed heart.

It wasn’t that he was cold, he just never found a way with words like Hinata’s drawing aura. With Hinata’s friends, like Bokuto, Kuroo, Kenma and Akaashi, he felt so at ease in the room, knowing Hinata was there. He was like the last missing puzzle piece that brought everyone together, locking things in place and keeping them all wrapped up in comfort. 

In ways that Akaashi could be a steady anchor for Bokuto (as he himself put it grudgingly) and in ways that Kenma, silent and antisocial as he was, clung onto Kuroo as his childhood best friend, Kageyama felt an attachment to Hinata. Whether that was his volleyball dream or his quiet want to have a normal life with him.

“Bakageyama,” the other’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts. “You weren’t even listening!”

Kageyama flinched at the sudden inclination of tone in the voice, though he held back a grin at the familiar voice. “I was,” he smoothly defended himself, leaning backwards in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? What did I say?” Hinata wrinkled his nose at him, thinking he had won.

Okay, Kageyama wasn’t listening, but at least he could go down with a fight. “Probably the same nonsense you spew on an hourly basis as usual.” 

Hinata opened his mouth to speak, but he curled over coughing before the words could get out. A wheeze escaped his lips as he felt near tears well up in his eyes, pain grinding at the back of his throat. Kageyama had leapt from his seat, a hand on the edge of the bed and the other gripping Hinata’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall out. 

His thumb found the tight muscle right on the shoulder blade as he began rubbing circles, feeling Hinata take lungfuls of air, swallowing tears and pushing down the liquids and the minimal food he had taken that threatened to come back out. 

Kageyama’s mouth was ready to form the words ‘breathe’, but he felt unable to coax Hinata into taking deep breaths when he needed a ventilator to aid him in breathing. He felt anger rising in his chest at this injustice, anger at the world, anger at himself. 

For getting attached to Hinata. For needing him as much as the latter needed him. 

Hinata was his partner, whether Kageyama chose to accept that or not. 

Hinata was still leaning forward, but all was still. Only the sullen beeping of the machines, the familiar thrum of the ventilator working in sync with the heart sensor, and the fearful heartbeat of Hinata that Kageyama felt and found under his fingertips echoed in the room. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata’s voice was quiet. “Don’t stay tonight.”

Kageyama’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to. Whether you like that or not.”

A pause. He could tell Hinata was struggling to form words.

“I can see the stars clearer from here,” he whispered, a soft response that he knew Hinata heard.

The other leaned over slightly, as Kageyama shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around Hinata’s small frame - even smaller than he honestly expected at first glance - feeling his ribs against his arms. Kageyama clenched his jaw in discomfort.

Hinata twisted his body and shifted to move so his arms were wrapped around Kageyama’s waist, his face nestling into the crook of Kageyama’s neck.

Kageyama felt tears against his collarbone. He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say?

I’m sorry?

For what? What was he apologizing for?

“Thank you.” The mumble was quiet. 

“Thank you,” Kageyama responded breathlessly and not even above a whisper, exhaling softly into Hinata’s hair. 

──────────────────────

(-5.8) 

──────────────────────

The next day came painfully slow for the two of them. Kageyama, as usual, got up first, but he could tell Hinata probably just didn’t want to wake up. It was better, to stay huddled in Kageyama’s arms, ignoring the machines that thrummed endlessly in the background, the constant footsteps outside their closed door, and to forget that a deadline was coming, whether they liked it or not.

Kageyama gritted his teeth. No. Hinata wasn’t going to die. It was pneumonia. You couldn’t die from pneumonia. Could you? No, you couldn’t. He would be fine.

Hinata would be fine.

After his recovery, they would train for volleyball together. Kageyama could finally leave behind a torn past and start something new with his partner. With Hinata.

Kageyama pulled away first, pushing away messy strands of orange hair from Hinata’s closed eyes, observing quietly the way his chest rose and fell with every harsh breath he took. 

Any breath could be his last, the voice in his head warned him. Kageyama fended it off as quickly as it came, shifting his position so he was holding Hinata gently in his arms, relaxing his grip.

Hinata still didn’t wake up. 

The door creaked open, a young yet tired-looking nurse standing in the tall doorway. Her appearance felt blurry to Kageyama, who pushed it off without much concern.

The nurse stepped forward quietly as Kageyama pulled himself away reluctantly to relax against the chair, fixing his hair with a soft sigh.

The nurse fiddled around with the machinery a bit, Kageyama not really paying attention to what she was doing. 

“He’ll be okay,” he told himself aloud, the nurse nodding in agreement.

“One of the happiest people on this gods-forsaken Earth that I’ve ever met,” she added on to the conversation, Kageyama staring back at her with wide eyes. 

“The happiest,” he repeated, mostly for himself.

The nurse avoided his gaze. Kageyama took it as a sign to leave for his daily routine of departing to freshen up a bit.

──────────────────────

(-5.7)

──────────────────────

He stepped back inside to the room, seeing Hinata with a changed shirt and sitting over the sheets, awake though still yawning. He seemed to have eaten a small breakfast, or as much as he could possibly force down. 

Kageyama hesitated, unclear as to what he should say, mouth running dry at the sight of Hinata with closed eyes, slumped helplessly on a white bed, tied up with more wires Kageyama could bear to count.

Thankfully, Hinata had opened his eyes and gave him a halfhearted smile. “Kageyama,” his voice was still strong, despite the obviously new wires protruding from his arm. 

Kageyama took a seat, waiting quietly for Hinata to speak.

“I’m scared,” his voice was quiet after a moment of hesitation. Kageyama leaned forward, his expression tightening, his jaw clenching. 

“They’re going to switch out the tubes for something that they like - stick in your throat,” his eyes were wide, with terror or panic, Kageyama couldn’t tell. “I won’t be able to speak. Does that mean I’m getting worse? It means I’m getting worse, right, Kageyama? Please, p-please, I don’t want to get worse-.”

“Shut up, boke, it’s gonna be okay,” Kageyama’s voice was steady despite his trembling hands and his quickening heartbeat. “You have to get worse to get better. It’s like a curve. In no time you won’t need the ventilator at all.”

The fear in Hinata’s eyes had now pooled into tears. A heart-wrenching sob left his lips. 

Kageyama scooted forward to wrap his arms around Hinata, the latter curling up against him. Hinata was shaking noticeably, tired eyes closing in surrender. Kageyama only gripped him tighter, not saying anything. He didn’t trust himself.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he opted for saying. “It’ll be temporary. Several days. Then they’ll let you out, I promise. They’ll let you go.”

God, Hinata was cold. The bony fingers that had wrapped themselves around Kageyama’s waist were chilly. He touched the back of Hinata’s neck, forcing himself to ignore the pale color that was definitely not its original tone. 

“Tell me . . .” Hinata’s voice was quiet yet steady against Kageyama’s ear. “About your setting in volleyball.”

Kageyama pulled backwards slightly so he could shift himself closer to Hinata, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, letting Hinata lean against him. Kageyama wrapped an arm around Hinata’s upper back, letting the other one fall to his side where Hinata’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“They called me a genius,” he began slowly. “I suppose I am, but then all I really do is nitpick my own flaws. And others, too. I knew I was on a higher level than them and I . . . tore apart my whole team when I told them to get on mine. I can’t stand the thought of failure. Of watching the ball fall, without a spiker to run up and hit it.”

“I think I’m getting better, though.”

He thought of the Hinata he had seen in his dreams, running up to hit the ball, flying as if he was a crow. The older long-haired brunette staring at him curiously (though intimidatingly) the silver-haired asshole that played around probably far too much, the blond glasses idiot who had laughed at him. So many more. The names were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t remember them.

He had never met them, but he missed them so much.

“I guess I was a good setter. But there were a lot of people who were better than me because of hard work, not because of natural talent. And it hurts a lot when you realize it. I could never draw out 100% of my team’s abilities like one of my seniors, nor will I ever feel the satisfaction of getting past three blockers.”

A shiver ran down his spine. 

“But somewhere in me knew I was at least somewhat important. Important enough that without me, a spiker couldn’t hit the ball.”

“All players in a team are important,” Hinata whispered in response, not chastising him even a single bit like Kageyama had originally expected of him being in what probably Hinata would’ve called him, a ‘jackass’.

“Like the libero. They guard the court. They keep the balls from hitting the floor.”

He thought of a shorter than Hinata boy with the front of his hair dyed blond. The face popped into his mind without any recollection of where he was from.

“The wing spikers,” Hinata continued to list, but the voice seemed slow and soft in the background of Kageyama’s head as a dream team began to form. 

A third year. He was tall, strong, and Kageyama could see the grit in his teeth and the gleam in his eye as the ball fell against his waiting arms, him bringing the team’s defense together.

The next one came quickly, a nearly-bald energetic bundle who leapt with the force of a hundred gods and the strength that Hercules could envy - or was it just an illusion? Was it a strong masquerade to hide the insecurities he had?

The next two seemed to come quietly, trudging behind the scenes. Their names seemed even more familiar to Kageyama but he couldn’t place them. They weren’t regulars, no, but they were just as appreciated. And he was sure they were skilled just the same.

“Blockers,” Hinata’s voice cut into the daydream, but Kageyama’s mind was already painting pictures. 

They appeared quickly. More muddled, but quicker. #11, the blond, glasses guy. Hinata himself. A green-haired, freckled boy who seemed far too timid. A #8, flashing quickly in and out, and Kageyama couldn’t place a face on him.

“The ace,” Kageyama could clearly hear Hinata’s voice break. He wanted to be the ace. He could be the ace.

He could have been the ace.

Kageyama put a stop to the daydreams, detaching himself from what was fake, instead returning to Hinata, who had stopped talking.

“You can be my spiker then. We’ll play in a team. I’ll set to you and you hit the ball,” Kageyama murmured into Hinata’s hair. “We’ll win the match.”

“Go to Nationals,” Hinata continued.

“And win that, then play for Japan.”

“You can’t forget winning that either. We’re going to be world champions.”

“Together.”

“Yeah.”

The question remained unasked but it was clear between the two of them, would Hinata really survive that long? And if yes, would he really be fit to even train for volleyball like that?

Kageyama relaxed against Hinata, forcing his mind to shut off.

“Kageyama, wanna watch a movie?”

──────────────────────

(-5.5) 

──────────────────────

When was it right to call someone on a first-name basis? Kageyama was sure they were far beyond that point, but calling Hinata, well, _Hinata_ , seemed so right. Shouyou felt so . . . weird to say. 

He didn’t know. It was Japanese custom to only call someone by their family name (unless they preferred it, which was Kenma’s case, Kageyama believed) till you were incredibly close to refer to one another in a given name sense. 

He sighed, shaking his head to himself. Did it really matter?

Hinata had drifted off, not that Kageyama wasn’t happy with it. It seemed with every waking moment Hinata was closer and closer to the brink of mental and emotional instability, breaking down into tears and overwhelming fear of what would happen. Kageyama didn’t care, though. He was sure whatever he could protect Hinata from and help him with he would.

He tightened his jaw stoically, watching the end credits scroll by. He tapped the spacebar once, jerking Hinata awake from the abrupt sound. He made a quiet noise of alarm, sitting up.

“I always fall asleep in the middle of that movie,” Hinata sounded disappointed, and definitely less joking than Kageyama would’ve liked him to be. “I never know what happens in the end.”

“The castle ends up getting abandoned and they all run into the portal,” Kageyama informed Hinata. “She hesitates, end scene.”

Hinata didn’t respond as he leaned forward, blinking thoughtfully. He tightened his lips together.

“Oi, Kageyama,” Hinata glanced at Kageyama with attentive eyes. “Why did you get that sunflower?”

Kageyama didn’t hesitate to respond. “I said I would bring you to the sunflower festival, but maybe some things are better brought to you instead. Plus, maybe the sunflower will keep you company on the few hours a day I’m not here.”

“I don’t need you by me every second of the day, bakageyama,” Hinata complained. 

  
“No, but you need someone to supervise you,” Kageyama responded with a straight face.

Hinata’s eyes sparked with rage but Kageyama could only feel delight and his heartbeat pounding in his head. Finally. A spark of pure emotion he didn’t know he would miss.

Then came the smack on his arm and the long string of complaints and insults, and Kageyama instantly regretted his joy.

──────────────────────

(-5.47) 

──────────────────────

When Hinata fell asleep maybe half an hour later after bickering for some time, clinging onto Kageyama’s arm, Kageyama only really realized what it felt like to be a void of emotions. Loving someone so dearly and letting go so quickly. 

How did people do it?

──────────────────────

(-5.3) 

──────────────────────

“Do you even know how to read?”

The way Kageyama saw it, it was Hinata who didn’t know how to read. He was perplexed as to why the annoying ginger was asking him. 

“Do you? I’d say you were illiterate if I hadn’t seen you attempt to communicate with an alien.”

“I was practicing my English lettering!” Hinata’s voice was loud and flustered, anger prominent in his tone, though accompanied by an extreme lack of energy.

It seemed like all they did was argue nowadays, but Kageyama knew this was the way Hinata liked it. It reminded him of former days when all Kageyama did ‘was act cold and pompous and pretend he was on the top of the world (stop running, boke, I’m going to hit you for saying that to my face!)’. 

He sighed. “It was less English and more gibberish. I don’t know what was your intention there,” he sneered.

Hinata scowled, a casted shadow on his face. “I’d like to see you try!” he blew a raspberry.

Kageyama scoffed, scooting over, snatching up the pen and casually throwing the notebook away. Hinata had offered to help him study out of pure boredom, and Kageyama had reluctantly agreed, though now Hinata was just grilling Kageyama on his weakest area in biology (which Kageyama called bullying.)

His third year didn’t even start till the second week of April, anyway, and by that time he’d need to help Hinata catch up on everything his mind conveniently forgot. 

“That's’ not how you spell ‘generation’!” Hinata’s shrill voice brought him back to the present. 

“You don’t even know what that word means!” Kageyama accused back.

Hinata shut up pretty quickly after that. 

──────────────────────

(-5.2) 

──────────────────────

Lunch came by quickly, with Hinata keeping down what he could, although he seemed more ill than after breakfast this morning. He was dozing off, the back of the bed upped slightly for easier resting. Kageyama was sitting on his chair, tapping away on his phone.

He glanced up temporarily, shutting off the device and setting it aside, staring at Hinata.

Thank you, he wanted to say.

His mouth formed instead what his mind told him not to think for so long. 

“I’m sorry,” a whisper curled like a tear under eyelashes. The air felt chilly in the room, the window blowing soft breezes down his neck. “I’m sorry that I love you so much. I’m sorry I can’t be there forever for you.”

He didn’t even see a shift in Hinata’s position when he spoke. It dawned on him later on that he probably wasn’t ever asleep the times he claimed to be. “Forevers don’t exist, silly,” the response was quiet. “My forever will never be your forever.”

And finally, the tears he had been holding in for so long came out, trembling and cold against his cheeks, one hand covering his face as he sobbed into his palm, the other hanging onto Hinata’s, who silently held it, like Kageyama would do for him.

All the fear, the disgust, the anxiety, the stress - everything, all of it, that came with self-hatred and the burning passion to just get out of here, to get out of the reputation he never deserved yet he received - it came pouring out, fast, horrible, out of his eyes, barely enough tears to demonstrate his true feeling. And still, Hinata held his hand close. 

They leaked out from under his fingers, falling onto the open biology textbook in his lap. Wrinkled pages. Ink quickly disappearing. Drenched corners of pages as the water seemed to fill up the room as the book began to blur, the edges of his carefully-built and protected reality ripped and torn apart violently.

And it was Hinata that stepped in from the cracks, a glowing savior. Was he really the protagonist in Kageyama’s story? Was he the hero in everyone’s story, the magnet to all things beauty and plot?

Kageyama choked on his own tears as he sought to breathe, fighting the current trying to drag him down. A violent storm raged overhead, he had lost sight of Hinata. 

“Kageyama,” the soft voice steered him back to shore.

Kageyama cried quietly. He taught himself how to cry quietly the day he was made fun of for bawling like a little baby when they mocked his alienation from society and his inability of having ept social skills. He curled up in that bathroom stall, shaking on the toilet seat, tears streaking down his face and his hand on his mouth so they’d stop laughing at him.

His shoulders shook violently, his breath shaky as he regained some composure, feeling Hinata’s hand touching his face. 

The other’s hand was barely touching his cheek, fingers intertwined tightly with his. He was probably leaning off the bed, not having the energy to stay standing to hug Kageyama for long. 

Kageyama leaned subconsciously into his touch, feeling Hinata’s thumb swipe under his eye to push away tears, a soft caress that had Kageyama trembling even more. His tears lessened until it was just the overwhelming and loud voices screaming in his head, the quiet voices he had set aside for Hinata’s sake several weeks ago. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata’s voice was quiet. 

“Tobio.”

His fingers were gripping his hair, his palm pushing on his eyes. Still, Hinata’s soft fingertips were resting on his cheek, despite the wire that connected Hinata’s wrist to the machine. 

“It’s okay,” his smile was genuine. 

Kageyama latched onto it like he did oh so many days ago, pulling and holding it close to him. To him, that smile meant everything. 

“I love you too, Tobio, and I promise everything’s gonna be okay.”

Kageyama was silent, his breathing heavy as he attempted to calm his heartbeat. 

“Pinky promise, right?” Hinata’s voice jarred him back as he lifted his head, his gaze finally meeting Hinata’s soft one. 

Hinata wrapped his pinky around Kageyama’s, lifting it up so it was in their line of vision. “See? Everything’s going to be okay.”

Kageyama believed him. 

──────────────────────

(-5.1) 

──────────────────────

“You’re holding onto nothing.” 

The words came out rich and quick, a rush of pain sending Kageyama’s heart plummeting. The orange-haired boy’s stare was cold and grim, looking down at him as if he was some bit of dirt. 

The dream felt hazy, as if his face was plunged into water. For once, this wasn’t the surreal feelings he felt in his volleyball dreams. This was a nightmare.

And Hinata starred in it.

“Don’t leave me like this,” his voice was quiet, words forced out roughly. The silence hung treacherously in the air as Hinata stepped forward, hands tucking on his cheeks. 

“Why? For your selfish gain? Is that all you want? Everything you do is for you - you don’t care for anybody else,” he spat rudely, coarse words flying out of lips that shouldn’t do anything but smile and say happy things, Kageyama thought horribly, the muddiness in his head driving him insane. 

“I-I do,” he stammered out, long and cold fingers reaching out to grab Hinata’s shoulders, forcing him to stay in place. With a shove, Hinata’s eyes seemed to turn menacingly red as Kageyama resurfaced from his dream, face breaking out from rocky waters.

His dream self’s fingers found wet rock, clambering as he shuddered in the cold, hard rain pounding on the surface of his skin, the rocky surface, and the water, oh the water - it rippled dangerously, calling him to come back, begging him to come back.

Kageyama shook terribly, out of cold or fear he could not tell. His thoughts were broken. His misery was in shambles. His pain was immeasurable.

“Please don’t leave me like this,” he repeated the words, lifting his head up as he felt raindrops and tears mingle together, the soft echo of thunder in the distance. “Let me come with you.”

Kageyama opened his eyes silently, hearing the beeping in the background. His eyes were level with messy tufts of orange hair, familiar arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

A sigh slipped out of his lips as he curled closer to the sleeping Hinata, liking this version of him better than the dream one. 

The room was cold, and Hinata was no better. He felt frigid to the touch, miserable to the very extent. But he was asleep, resting his tired body, his overworked lungs, all that is well should be well. Kageyama could imagine they had just won Nationals after a tiring year, and now, they have retired to a bed, curled up on each other, relishing in their victory. He could imagine that they had set aside their worries for next year, for their failing classes, for all those they will not see on the team next year - and for now, they could wait the afternoon away before the celebratory dinner. He could imagine (and he felt as if he could so clearly hear them too) as the team rambunctiously burst into the room, delighted screams and happy words exchanged, victorious speeches and loud laughter in the room - he could imagine it all he wanted and it would never be real.

No, Kageyama thought desperately, his imagination slipping away as quickly as smoke. It will be true someday. I will win with you. Victory is ours. We will fly together. 

I will make you fly high.

He laid like that, counting seconds as if they were pennies in the wind. Drops of nervous sweat clung to his neck, his collar heating up as he filled his thoughts with fear. Kageyama let a soft sigh leave his lips, shifting so he was laying on his back.

He stared at the white ceiling. How was it so quick? To love someone so immediately? To know that they were your best friend and the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?

A smile split his face when he glanced down at Hinata’s sleeping form, observing the light dust of oddly colored patches on his face. He was paler than he remembered, dark circles casted under his eyes. Discomfort came with sleeping, so Hinata never took to sleeping like he used to. The calm refuge from a heavy day didn’t exist anymore.

Kageyama lifted an arm to drag his thumb across his cheekbone, silently admiring the slight tilt and the asymmetry his face bore. To him, it was beautiful. Perhaps others wouldn’t agree but Hinata had an alluring personality. Effortlessly befriending people older and younger, taller and shorter, quieter and louder than he was, he was quite literally the ball of sunshine the universe spun around. To Kageyama, he felt blessed to be able to be the person Hinata loved. The person he hung around the most.

He wondered why he never saw his family. His friends. The people Kageyama knew for sure Hinata had befriended so easily - did they all forget him the moment he stopped being loud and, well, Hinata? Was that how it was like in this world?

The nature of humanity really made them abandon pretty things the moment they lost their bright beauty, doesn’t it? Kageyama gritted his teeth. He wondered why Natsu had even stopped visiting, but he supposed the last time he saw the family visit, the tears rolling down his mother’s face, the anger and the fear in Natsu’s big eyes - he couldn’t even bear to see it himself.

Maybe it was because he was in denial. Maybe if he could be mature and accept the truth rather than be selfish, he would understand their pain. 

He didn’t care what the doctor or the nurse said. He didn’t care what anybody but Hinata said. And Hinata had promised he would be okay. Kageyama believed him. Kageyama believed him with all his heart. 

“What could you possibly be thinking about so hard, with that empty head of yours?” he felt the words snipe at him mid-thought. He snapped to look at Hinata, wishing he could form words but not wanting to.

“I don’t know. Thinking of how so much has changed so quickly.” 

“Change isn’t scary,” Hinata’s words might have seemed reassuring to anyone else, but to Kageyama, it felt like Hinata was lying to him. 

Coldly, too.

“It is,” he responded deftly. “It’s the one thing that is unpredictable. I can’t control it. I hate when things change - it’s out of my comfort zone, it’s no longer what I know to be safe. I have to test things out and adjust, and things like that take up so much precious time.” 

“Well, yeah, but why must you not want to change? Things happen and you can’t control life. Outcomes don’t always happen the way you want it to. Why do you have to be in control?” The question came lashing, the feeling put into words that Kageyama had always felt but had never understood.

“It’s different than wanting to be in control,” Kageyama struggled to formulate an answer. “It’s the feeling of-.”

“Being one step ahead of your enemies, but two steps ahead of your friends?” Hinata propped himself up so he could be at the same level as Kageyama, the slight shuffling of tubes and sheets. 

“No,” Kageyama denied after some thought, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not that self-centered.”

“Right,” Hinata cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s true at all. If what you were telling me really was true I can see what you mean now. It’s not being self-centered, you just think everyone is on the same level - or if they aren’t, that they have to be. And even if they were on the same level, you still want to be two steps ahead of them, no matter who it is. You forever want to be the control tower. The thing that the whole universe revolves around.”

Kageyama didn't respond. Was that really how he felt? Truth be told, he didn’t know. He felt indifferent to those around him. Maybe he was jealous about how he always wanted to be Hinata, the social magnet that had everything spinning around him - not that he was sharp enough to know. No, it was because of his pure genuinity, whereas with himself, he could never feel that way. 

Was this jealousy? 

Was it really right to feel jealous of someone who deserved everything they got? 

Kageyama shoved the thought aside, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Whatever it is, Tobio-kun,” Hinata prodded him gently with a bony knuckle. “Stop thinking so hard about it. We’ve done all kinds of shit in our pasts. Okay? Don’t let it affect you now. Go along with change. It’s like - I dunno - singing, maybe.” 

“Shouyou,” the name came out like a raspy whisper. “Kiss me.”

Shouyou did. 

──────────────────────

(-5.05)

──────────────────────

They never kiss after that. Nor do they speak about it.

──────────────────────

(-5.02)

──────────────────────

Some forevers never last. 

But for Tobio, the kiss was enough for a lifetime. 

Short. Sweet. Full of love.

It reminded him so much of Shouyou that it hurt. 

──────────────────────

(-4)

──────────────────────

“Can we go to the garden?”

The words were excited, rushed. They slipped out of Shouyou’s lips as the energetic boy glanced at the sleepy Tobio, who had just woken up, a cramp in his back when he returned to the chairs to sleep. 

A moment of silence as an incredulous and tired Tobio stared back at Shouyou. 

“Alright,” his response was curt, sharp amidst the dreary tension in the air.

──────────────────────

(-4.95)

──────────────────────

Tobio had his fingers wrapped tightly around the wheelchair handles, knowing the truth of why the nurse had allowed this to happen, with some pleading from Shouyou and himself.

The breathing machine was conveniently hooked up on wheels, the arterial line detached as well as the pulse oximeter. It’s just a heart sensor, Shouyou had argued. I don’t need it. At all. It tells what my heartbeat is. It’s not like it’s giving me life.

But it’s helping, Tobio wanted to add, but the angry look Shouyou had given the nurse had convinced him to stay silent. He wasn’t so sure Shouyou would want him around anymore if he tried to argue with him.

Shouyou seemed defeated, Tobio noticed.

Tobio grazed his fingers on the other’s cheek as he leaned against the elevator wall, hearing the familiar whirr as it began to travel upwards.

Shouyou clasped his fingers around Tobio’s, squeezing them so hard Tobio felt like they were going to break off. 

A ding.

Tobio pulled his fingers out of Shouyou’s grip and pushed him out of the elevator. 

──────────────────────

(-4.7)

──────────────────────

The garden was absurdly quiet this early into the morning. Tobio had wheeled Shouyou near the edge, past the glass railings, as he himself sat on a bench nearby, watching the streaks of orange across the sky, the gleaming sphere that was the glorious sun rising. 

“It’s too early for this,” he whispered to himself in the slightly chilly air, praying it’d warm up soon.

“Tobio,” Shouyou called quietly. “You play setter, right? And you wanted to go professional one day?”

“Not anymore,” Tobio answered truthfully, much to Shouyou’s surprise. Tobio hadn’t been giving it much thought, but just out of instinct, out of pure instinct, he had responded not really. It was perhaps his gut telling him he didn’t really want to do it, he supposed.

Not anymore.

Shouyou’s eyes widened. “But you’re good! You’re really good! I know you’re good!”

“A setter isn’t good without the help of their teammates,” Tobio responded dully. “My former teammates want nothing to do with me. A setter can’t set without an ace to hit it.”

Shouyou’s eyes gleamed with what Tobio could only distinguish as anger. “You haven’t even tried! Why would you say that?” 

“I have,” he answered yet again, dull and quiet. “My future as a setter can’t happen if no team wants me. There’s no point in trying to win, or even to play, if I’m not a wanted setter.”

Shouyou paused. “Do you really need me to give you a reason to not want to lose? You haven’t played in months. You have natural talent, you know that yourself. Natural talent is something that blooms, like a flower,” his fingers grazed the blossoming flowers nearby, sending a petal spiraling down. “And instinct as well as skill is something you polish. Others will want you come time, but you need to show that you want to be wanted.”

“Why are you so keen in wanting me to pursue my future? It doesn’t involve you, anyway.” Tobio’s words were harsh, but there wasn’t any point in denying it any longer.

“The future belongs to those who believe in their dreams, does it not? I believe in your dreams, therefore it is my future as well. Even if we are separated come time, I will still be with you for the rest of your life. My belief is in you, your dreams, and your future. That stays forever, idiot.”

Tobio didn’t respond. Tired eyes found the reflection of the rising sun’s rays splattered against glass windows.

“How did you start playing?”

“I started in elementary out of pure luck. The coach said he recognized my genius as a setter and continued to push me to play volleyball.” 

The words were true. His ego wasn’t inflated.

Tobio knew that if Shouyou had the energy, he would’ve snapped back and made fun of him.

Shouyou didn’t respond immediately. “That’s amazing,” his words were soft. “Genius setter, huh? Why do you think most people start playing volleyball?”

“Some do it for a sport to take up time. Others do it for friends, or for exercise. Maybe some will do it because it is truly their desired career path,” Tobio enlightened Shouyou, continuing the discussion. He leaned forward, pressing fingertips together, Shouyou setting his wrist on Tobio’s, letting it fall limp. 

“I think it’s because people are looking for the thrill in life. No one is truly in volleyball to win, you know? A lot of them are in it for the fact that they will have to either walk away with a trophy or a participation award. Humans weren’t born with wings, so they look for other ways to fly. To be able to leap into the air and face the consequences if their wings don’t unfurl. To take that leap of faith into an endless pit.”

I love you, Tobio wanted to say, the words tumbling out of his lips. But he didn’t want Shouyou to feel pity. Or guilt. Or sadness. Or anger. Or anything, honestly. Tobio had time to grapple with his own emotions and he would. Alone. Plus, it wasn’t the time.

“Fly,” Tobio’s lips formed the words. 

Fly, the coach told the team. Fly, Karasuno, fly. 

Fly! They had chanted triumphantly. 

No longer flightless crows, the headlines would say. The screams of joy as they lifted their arms into the air. Tobio would yell in celebration, shaking his fist in the air. He would meet the eyes of his defeated opponents and his victorious teammates, but he would be only looking to meet the gaze of one. 

Hazel eyes connected with blue ones.

Lips connected with the ferocity of happiness, of victory.

Squawk! A murder of crows flew past their line of vision, snapping Tobio back into reality.

Subconsciously, he counted twelve crows.

──────────────────────

(-4.4)

──────────────────────

Tobio stretched his fingers, gently massaging his knuckles. He was conscious of Shouyou’s shy gaze trained on him, slowly swaying with the breeze of the wind and the distant-like sound of the classical piano playing in the background.

“Tobio,” Shouyou’s call was quiet. “What are you interested about other than volleyball?”

Tobio paused. “Nothing, really. I guess I’m really bad at science.”

“No, I know,” Shouyou reassured him brightly, bugging him a little bit more, fiddling with the pulse oximeter back on his finger. “But like, any interests?”

“Botany?” Tobio offered halfheartedly. “Flowers are cool.”

Shouyou blinked. “Botany?” he murmured in disbelief. “You really are just a bland piece of white bread.”

“White - white bread?” he stammered on his words momentarily, confused as to where this conversation was going.

“Not even white bread,” Shouyou tsked. “Just bread. The kind of bread no one likes. Because you have no flavor, no uniqueness to you. No wonder why you’re so broody, it’s because you have nothing to love.”

“Shouyou,” Tobio interrupted softly. “Please stop comparing me to bread.”

“No,” Shouyou assured him. “I will not. You are literally bread. You are like the sandwich crusts everyone tosses away. Smeared with jam and peanut butter but forced to be cut and thrown into compost because no one wants to eat you. You’re like the plastic wrapping on onigiri that is discarded so quickly.”

“Is everything you say as useless as that?”

“Tobio-kun,” Shouyou tsked noisily. “Don’t chastise me when botany is the only thing you’re ‘interested’ in. There must be something you devote your whole life to!”

You, Tobio wanted to say, thinking about his life had shaped literally around Shouyou the last few months. But could he really say that, given the setting?

He amused the other and just let his lips quirk in a half-smirk. “Volleyball.”

“Other than volleyball,” Shouyou answered exasperatedly. “Like, art? Reading? Writing? Baking?”

Tobio could see Shouyou trying to picture a chef Kageyama in his head and chortling audibly at it. 

Oh my god, Tobio wanted to throw him out of the window, a pure act of hateful defenestration. 

“No,” he responded. “I’m interested in music, but just the guitar kind. I kind of forced myself to learn, and ended up giving it up when it just didn’t sound right. Not that it matters.” 

“And went into volleyball?” Shouyou queried with curiosity.

“Guitar was more like something for me to do other than volleyball,” he responded sleekly. “I was never good at it anyway, and I guess that’s part of the reason why I gave it up.” A thoughtful pause. “I used to love going to the movies. Self-care is important too, I suppose.”

“Wow,” Shouyou nodded. “How brilliant.”

“What about you?” Tobio switched the subject, though Shouyou only sidestepped the question breezily.

“Wait, no, tell me more about guitar. Movies. Whatever. Tell me about yourself. Other than your dark history and insecure volleyball genius setter type. I wanna know the things you did to fill up empty time.” Shouyou’s voice was fast-paced, sharp breathing acute in Tobio’s ears as the silence came back to haunt them. 

“Well,” Tobio’s voice was quiet compared to Shouyou’s. “My sister and I used to play a lot of volleyball together. She would teach me the way she enjoyed volleyball, instead of the systematic approach training has to it. She would teach me ways to play games that I would enjoy instead of worrying about winning. She’d bring me out to a movie if there was a good one playing after our practice together. We would stop by a convenience store and get meat buns. We’d walk back home together. Night would be approaching, the sunset on our shoulders.” 

Shouyou’s bright gaze egged him on.

“She got busy, and I started playing volleyball on my own. Got into a team and just continued playing. To fill up empty days I would fiddle with a broken guitar, and sometimes rewatch old movies we had lying around. Other days I’d just sit and practice on my bedroom wall.”

Shouyou, by now, had leaned forward, his gaze striking. “God, your life sounds boring.”

Too tired to gripe back, Tobio leaned back into his chair, letting his head tip against the windowsill. “Not really,” he responded carefully. “It was everything to me.” 

──────────────────────

(-4.3)

──────────────────────

The next few hours had felt torturously long as he watched Shouyou doze in and out, till it was nearly evening, Shouyou sitting in front of him, a glass of water in his hand as he steadily and rhythmically took small sips. 

“Your sister,” Shouyou said softly. “How is she?”

“Recovering. She walks better now. Still uses a cane though. They invested in a high stool for her job as a hairstylist. She’s getting along pretty well, I think. I haven’t spoken to her in half a month, maybe.” 

“Yeah, because you’ve been at the hospital all this time. Go home, Kageyama.”

The return of Shouyou’s use of his last name would’ve felt odd and jarring had Tobio had not already stopped paying attention. “I can’t,” he finally responded. “No one ever comes by to keep you company.”

Shouyou snorted. “So? I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Really?” Tobio let the question hang in the air, Shouyou not meeting his eyes. Tobio and Shouyou both knew that the former was clinging onto false hope, false hope that Shouyou would survive. False hope that Shouyou would live on into a successful road of volleyball. False hope that they could spend the rest of their life together.

As best friends. As partners.

Tobio knew Shouyou was angry at him. Angry at him for underestimating his health, though they both knew that Shouyou was not gonna be able to undergo several hours on his own. 

“I’ll go,” Tobio finally let in. “Tomorrow morning.” He added on, seeing Shouyou’s piqued gaze.

Shouyou nodded. “That’s fine by me.”

──────────────────────

(-2.9) 

──────────────────────

“So, will you ever plant a flower garden?” was the first sentence that Tobio was greeted with when he entered the hospital room. He arched an eyebrow at Shouyou. 

“Why a flower garden?”

“You said you were interested in botany,” Shouyou’s smile was dazzling. Tobio felt like grinning back, but fought against it. He wasn’t so sure he’d like the feeling of Shouyou making fun of him for an ugly smile.

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna become a flower mom and plant a dozen roses in my front yard. Plus, I don’t even think most apartments in Tokyo have that luxury.” Tobio was making excuses. There were plenty of neighborhoods that offered the gardens, on balconies or even in little flower pots dangling from the ceiling. And plenty of neighborhoods situated in Tokyo itself and its outskirts had that kind of space for a house fitted with huge yards.

“Maybe you just don’t know how to begin,” Shouyou continued to insist, dragging Tobio by his arm towards the bed, where he sat, faced with the dimly lit screen of Shouyou’s laptop screen. 

Tobio could only hear the rasps that were Shouyou breathing into his mask. They had changed it, Tobio realized, seeing that the tubes were replaced with a far more chunky breathing device.

Tobio wanted to grab his head and sob.

“I think I’m okay,” Tobio tried to inch away, but Shouyou clung onto him like a leech, grinning with a smile that Tobio really couldn’t resist. He tried to make excuses. “It’s hard,” he reasoned.

“What you’ve begun will come naturally to you, little by little. What you need at the start is a little bit of curiosity,” Shouyou stated wisely. 

Tobio blinked. “There is no way you came up with that.”

Shouyou appeared offended. “Tobio, I’m not an idiot.”

“I refuse to believe that - what the hell?” Tobio sprang back as Shouyou thwacked him on the head. 

“Your negativity really is muddying the place, Tobio-kun, have some respect for your elders!” Shouyou scolded him deliberately, Tobio shrinking back with a roll of his eyes. 

“Why are you like this?” Tobio queried coldly, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Honestly - why deliberate over past mistakes or things you’ve done? You can’t change anything, so focus on what’s directly in front of you, and work on advancing that technique instead,” Shouyou advised sagaciously, grinning. “See? Philosophy. Your seed-sized brain can’t handle it, now can you?”

“Please,” Tobio only grunted as a response.

Shouyou snickered. “All I’m saying is that there are some sunflowers you can only see when you take detours. So take it slow. Take it happy. Take it how you want it.”

His voice hung in the air for a moment as Tobio locked eyes with hazel ones, the spark of life he’d come to love so much vibrant. 

“Right,” his voice choked on the response, overwhelmed with some sort of emotion - he just couldn’t tell what it was yet. 

Shouyou smiled peacefully. 

──────────────────────

(-2.4)

──────────────────────

 _I love you,_ Tobio stared at the sleeping form of Shouyou, all curled up.

_I really do._

──────────────────────

(-1.3)

──────────────────────

It passed by so quickly.

Too quickly.

The sun was setting again.

──────────────────────

(-0.7)

──────────────────────

The inner countdown in his heart beat faster and faster as he stared at Shouyou’s resting form, the beeping of the machine telling him ever so slightly that Shouyou was still alive. 

Somehow, Tobio’s gut was telling him that it was over.

His brain was begging him to leave.

But his heart clung onto the bundle of happiness and what seemed like the true meaning of life that was Hinata Shouyou. And it wouldn't let go. 

“Shouyou,” his voice was just above a whisper, a croak in his throat. “Shouyou, please.”

His eyes clung onto the silhouette of the wilting flower on the windowsill. He shook his head.

“Please.”

──────────────────────

(0.0)

──────────────────────

This time, the beep seemed to go on forever. It rang in his ears as he stepped out into the hallway, his jacket in his arm, his bag in the other, his face ashen. The nurse stepped to the side quietly to let him pass.

Tobio didn’t want to come back.

──────────────────────

(1.0)

──────────────────────

Waking up feels like breaking through the surface of churning water, only to find that the surface is calm, but so eerily. 

There is a lax feeling to the air as Tobio wakes up, feeling refreshed yet forlorn. Hazy memories of yesterday come crashing down quickly, a wave of anger, frustration, guilt, crippling sadness - waves of emotions that burden and pile themselves onto the boy. 

Tobio kicks away the covers, swinging his legs over so he could curl sitting up, burying his face into his knees. What the hell was he going to do now?

Truth be told, he doesn’t know.

The house is silent when he leans against the counter, bringing a cup of water to his lips. The liquid was tasteless.

Tobio feels like succumbing to tears, but something inside told him to stay strong.

He thinks of Shoyo’s smile - and that’s all it takes - as the tears begin to pour out. He thinks of the beam that splits Shoyo’s facial features apart, the grin that lightens up a whole room, the laugh that was so loud it would ring in your ears even when it ended. 

To Tobio, Shoyo was an everlasting roll of a dice, exhausting to continue gambling but addicting - even when you know the end is coming.

He splutters on the water, letting the cup shatter against the counter. With a careful pause, he gathers the broken pieces with trembling hands, his cheeks still glistening with fresh tears.

Tobio leaves the house in a hurry - slamming the door in its wake. A shudder rips through his shoulders as he feels the up and coming burn of the sun on his shoulders.

The dynamic feeling of loss ripples through his veins once more with every painful step - every bit of imagination that he can muster up. He thinks of the happiness he would have been able to see on Shoyo’s face should they have gone to nationals together, as a team.

“God,” Tobio says audibly, bringing his feet to a stop as his shoulders shake.

There’s a pause hanging in midair as he watches people exit the bus, standing just far enough to where he wouldn’t be noticed,

“You look - hammered,” the voice catches. Tobio’s about to believe that Shoyo was speaking to him from the heavens till he glances up, blue eyes clashing with black ones.

Tobio doesn’t respond. He lets the unkind observation hang in the air. 

Kindaichi doesn’t say anything either.

They stand in silence, till Kindaichi shoves past him.

Tobio opens his mouth to say something, to call after him - but there’s a drill in his heart. A rock on his lips.

He shudders as he inhales, looking up into the bright, horribly blue sky - only thinking of the sunflowers that will be blooming several months from now, the sunflowers he promised to show Shoyo.

Curse the heavens is an angry thought, Tobio can only observe as he steps past the bus stop, clenching and unclenching his fingers to at least have some feeling. 

──────────────────────

(100.0)

──────────────────────

It never gets easier, Tobio notices.

The swish of a volleyball alerts him back to his senses as he feels the softness of the ball against his perfect fingertips, aligning them in such an angle where he just barely pushes - and the point is scored.

Cheers from all around. 

“Nice, Kageyama-kun!” the voice rings in his ears.

He only thinks of Shoyo, but the memory only brings a soft smile to his face. 

Thanks, he thinks as he gives a nod to the caller.

──────────────────────

(365.0)

──────────────────────

Time passes like it waits for nobody, Tobio is quick to realize.

He’s out standing with Miwa, something they had planned for a long time.

It’s a quiet place. They have left Tokyo and entered the outskirts of Nara, throwing crumbs of crackers to feed the deer in the park. They maintain a steady distance so as to not get nipped by the animals.

Tobio lets his posture shrink. 

He has avoided going to the festival last year, but he knows Miwa knows, and he knows Miwa will interrogate him about it today.

One year.

One fucking year.

“We should go,” Tobio states.

He is referring to the festival.

Actually, he doesn’t know anymore.

For some reason, today is particularly hard.

──────────────────────

(495.0)

──────────────────────

The sunflowers are to be self-indulgent, he thinks.

Rippling seas of yellow greet his eyes as he takes in the warm scent of flowers, his hands loosening peacefully in his pockets. Somewhere, a sunflower is bright, watching over Shoyo’s last resting place.

And that makes him content. Or at least calm enough to walk through the sunflowers.

──────────────────────

(730.0)

──────────────────────

He supposes his past self was full of wisdom.

It’s with a chuckle - and shame that comes after - as he touches the flowerpot beside the grave.

He was right, it never does get better, but there is some part of it that has Tobio reminiscing of his past, of his happiness that came with Shoyo. Shoyo wasn’t the source of his happiness, of course, but Tobio felt some kind of attachment with him. He was shown the way to the world like Shoyo called it.

He lets out a sigh.

“Aren’t you happy?” Tobio never has revealed why he always carries around a sunflower charm - albeit, cheap and easily replaceable - despite being asked. He always shrugged it off, saying it was a souvenir gift.

Maybe it was.

The charm was calling his name after all, when he left the festival. He knew he wanted something.

Another breathless chuckle left his lips. “I’m going to play for the National Team,” Tobio informs the silence. 

Silence.

──────────────────────

(995.0)

──────────────────────

The days approach faster than he can believe.

Kageyama stares at the biology textbook he has open on his lap.

He still remembers sobbing over the open book in his bedroom that horrible day. 

It's drenched. 

Like it was doused in water.

He couldn't have cried that much.

He lets out a soft laugh.

──────────────────────

(1000.0)

──────────────────────

The past can never be avoided.

Tobio knows this, and has known this for a long time now.

He has walked steady lines, following volleyball dreams, and growing a small garden. He has failed multiple times, and this should be his near sixth try - but that doesn’t deter him. Sure, he never has enough time to water and nurture them, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

A wise man once told him, “What you’ve begun will come naturally to you, little by little. What you need at the start is a little bit of curiosity.”

He chuckles in the silence of the changing room, his teammates having long left. Shoyo would find it amazing that Tobio called him a wise man. 

He had stayed behind in the empty room, offering to clean up the gym by himself - he usually does anyway, it gives him time to think. This time, however, he was hitting tosses into empty spaces beside him.

And in his heart, he felt some triumph.

He felt some triumph knowing that he had spikers he could send the ball sprawling to - and that with some faith, the ball would score a point. He feels comfort in this warm feeling, the warm feeling he had once only associated with Hinata Shoyo.

When he steps out of the changing room, leaving the empty hallways of the Schweiden Adlers’ training facility, he sees a pair of crows flitting off. 

Tobio shades his eyes so he could see them clearer.

“If only you were here, Shoyo,” he subconsciously glanced to his side fondly. “You would be able to fly even higher.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. to make it clear: this fic does not have to be read as kghn but it is meant to be! it was the original intention but you can interpret it as kghn's friendship. i really do believe volleyball is their love language. kageyama will always be hinata's first setter just as hinata is the first to never let the ball fall in the king's court. and i really think they taught each other development and the understanding that volleyball is a team sport, and not a singular person's sport. especially when it comes to kageyama and his often insecurities of failure and isolation. 
> 
> 2\. the team kageyama does describe is karasuno. karasuno does not exist (well, it does, but only the school and a separate volleyball team) and this fic is mainly located in tokyo. bokuto, akaashi, kenma and kuroo are hinata's friends because they met each other sometime in their lifetime. kuroo connects bokuto (bokuto connects to akaashi) and kenma connects to both kuroo and hinata, forming like a chain. the team kags describes do not know each other (of course, there are exceptions like the third years' friend group, noya and tanaka, yachi and kiyoko etc.) i also made absolute sure to give love to the underrated second years (ennoshita, narita, kinoshita) because they deserve it all. absolutely. hecking. all.
> 
> 3\. the kiyose sunflower festival exists !! in fact, this fic was kinda founded on the premise of me looking for sunflower festivals to go to whilst i was in japan (albeit, i never DID get to go because my trip happened like last year) but i did manage to recall the festival research i did. it's super amazing and you should definitely research it! the pictures are absolutely beautiful.
> 
> 4\. the timeline of the fic is blurry, so i'll clear it up for you now. (kags explains it i think halfway through the fic.) they meet in early february, and kags hangs around the hospital for a week or so whilst miwa's comatose. he ends up not coming until she wakes up due to getting insecure about making friends (he's had trouble with that in the past with his nasty reputation) and gets scared off by hinata's willingness to be around him. he comes back 3 1/2 weeks later and meets hinata again. by then, it's mid march. hinata ends up getting admitted back to the hospital not long after then and the two week countdown begins (he passes away march 22nd ish, to my timeline. obviously feel free to change it to your comfort). kags stays in the hospital (on the waiting chairs outside, the plastic ones, not the comfortable ones, TRUST ME they hurt so much to sleep on i had like cramps in my back and neck for DAYS) unbeknownst to hinata, and only sleeps in his room during the last week. (no, they do not know it's the last week till it ends.) then, part 2 of the fic comes. (#8) 
> 
> 5\. kageyama's version of how he sees reality is distorted. he surrounds himself with loneliness and isolates himself deliberately because that's how he perceives reality. he feels undeserving of attention and to him, hinata is but a figment of his imagination. only in the final week does he finally come to terms with his depression and anxiety, and dubs it as selfishness. he begins to heal after hinata passes away, learning slowly of all the things hinata taught and told him, as if he truly was being given and shown the brightness of life hinata once possessed. 
> 
> 6\. the stars they describe in the fic is something kinda like a hallucination? kageyama doesn’t actually ever see the stars, he’s just forcing himself to pretend so much for hinata. it’s something i’ve done before, pretend the stars actually exist (i live in the gta of ontario, canada, so stars were never much of a luxury unless we traveled 1 hour out.)
> 
> 7\. in the middle of the fic, at the final week, it will become more clear that the fic is slowly counting down the minutes. the second half of part 1 of the fic is probably just devoted to telling the last week's story and how we really see both hinata's and kageyama's development in it. part 2 dives deeper into kageyama’s life without hinata as he struggles with coping after the heavy loss of a lover and best friend.
> 
> 8\. yes! i do quote haikyuu many times! spot them all. :) 
> 
> 9\. the sections are not like chapters. they do not have consistent lengths. they’re just memories that kags recalls and remembers after hinata passes. you will notice the tense shifts to present after his death. 
> 
> 10\. the reason why kags’ subconscious countdown to 0 happens when hinata dies is because it’s the moment where he comes to terms with himself and his failure at being a good person, not where they reunite. he does not need hinata to survive, he needed hinata to help him. to open his eyes, to become the light in his life he needed so desperately when nothing shone through the open windows. (every number means a day.) 


End file.
